


In True John Constantine Fashion

by LittleMissCosmic



Series: We're Not Normal People [3]
Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And a smoke, Emotional Hurt (Brief), Hurt John Constantine, Hurt/Comfort, John Constantine Needs A Drink, LOCALIZED entirely behind HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS?!, Magical Exhaustion, Time Travel, at THIS time of day, at THIS time of year, in THIS part of the country, magic shenanigans, small injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissCosmic/pseuds/LittleMissCosmic
Summary: Finally returning to the Legends after his impromptu vacation to New York, John doesn't expect to see that magic wanker's face anytime soon. Especially not in 1960s Hollywood, of all places.Well, because God hates him (though he knew that already), he ends up having another strange encounter that day. And unfortunately for him, he needed his help.
Series: We're Not Normal People [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135205
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	In True John Constantine Fashion

**Author's Note:**

> so i promised that you guys would see more characters other than John or Stephen, but Sara and Ray's roles are so minor i kinda feel like i lied ;-; i'm definitely going to be showing off more characters as this series continues, and i hope that Sara and Ray's involvement at least hints at John's coming arc throughout the story ;) Lips are sealed for now, but it's not exactly going to be a smooth road from here on out. 
> 
> also hey! Stephen actually needs John's help for once! i'm really hoping that the two of them get equal opportunity to help each other, mainly cause it's more interesting to see their worlds collide than to have one of them be constantly outmatched by the other. but anyways, enjoy!

There was a song that once echoed through a vacant bar that John, even in his drunken haze, listened to thoroughly. One lyric stuck out to him:  _ good things never last, bad things never die.  _

Right on the money, it seemed like. That lyric was the one thing crawling through his mind as he finally lugged himself out of the rotten Big Apple to finally do what he needed to do: his job. The broken leg proved to be something of a challenge to work around (luckily, both Astra and Gary accepted it as it was, as they did with most things concerning John, so no questions asked) but in true John Constantine fashion, he battled through it. And also in true John Constantine fashion, he mainly stumbled over his own feet most of the time and pretended it was what he meant to do. 

But eventually, it got somewhat better, just like him. Not perfect, but it would do. 

Now, with a limp in his step, he tried his best to suppress the feeling of looming dread in his stomach as he boarded the Waverider once more. The doors opened up, and he stepped onto the bridge where Sara and Ray were examining the details of their next mission. 

"Oh, hey," Sara's familiarly sarcastic voice dragged out, eyes still focused on the databoard. "Look who decided to show up." 

John offered her a smirk, but she wasn't having any of it. Ray, on the other hand, walked up to him right away, wide eyes focused on his limp. 

"What's with the leg?" He asked, ever the concerned one. John had to wonder what excuse he came up with to join them this time. 

"Don't worry, squire. Just had a scuffle in New York, that's all. Should be fine in about a day or so."

"That's it?" Sara turned to him, arms crossed. Her tone was serious, but he knew it was out of worry, not necessarily scorn. "You run off to New York for nearly a month and return with "don't worry?" We tried calling you."

He swallowed. Of course he knew they called him. Of course he knew they worried. He just-- he just didn't want anyone bothering him. The only reason he agreed to this mission was because Sara said it was going to be brief-- hence the scaled down band. Already didn't want to bother with 2 reunions, let alone 5 more. 

"I told you, I needed a break," he explained, raising his hands. "Besides, you lot seem to have been fine without me. But now I'm ready to get back into the game. Where are we headed?"

Sara glared at him, pursuing her lips together in miffed disappointment. She was expecting at least a half-hearted apology, as opposed to a lack of one altogether. She directed her attention back to the mission report. 

"Hollywood, 1963. There's been reports of some magical interference around the studios, in danger of interrupting the shooting of  _ The Raven _ ."

"With Vincent Price?" Ray's eyes lit up. "Like,  _ Edward Scissorhands _ Vincent Price?"

Sara threw her head over her shoulder. "We're going on a mission, no time to get this guy's autograph."

He stepped back, taking back his sentence. "Right, right."

"Nothing too serious right now, it should be short and snappy," she explained, peering at John as if to reassure him he wouldn't have to spend too much time with them today. As John averted his gaze from her, she went to input their destination. 

"Better get excited-- we're going to the City of Angels!" 

* * *

A few minutes later, Sara, Ray and John were standing in front of the walls keeping them and Vincent Price seperated. Sara and Ray were dressed to blend in, while John, of course, refused to disregard his trenchcoat. Ray surveyed the area for any signs of magical interference while Sara relayed the details of the initial report to John. 

"Okay, so we can't interfere with the shooting that much, but maybe we can start asking around. John, do you have any idea where the source could--"

But when she turned around, he was already gone.

"--be?" 

She stared into the vastness of the forest behind her, recognizing that John was doing what he did best: his own thing. Whatever the hell that was. She pressed her lips together and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Why didn't I see this coming?" 

* * *

John was already on the trail to find whatever magical bullshit was happening in the woods. He didn't know how to explain it, but he had a feeling that it was happening in the forest. It  _ always _ happened in the forest. Mother Nature and all that shite. 

He didn't want to drag Sara and Ray along in case it got messy.  _ Messy _ could've meant a lot of things regarding magic, and 9/10 times he didn't want to subject his friends to it. It was better if he dealt with it himself and spared him. Sure, could die or whatever, but hey, that was a risk he was willing to take. 

He was deep into the forest when he heard a rumbling from beneath. A small crack tore through the ground, leading to somewhere further. He followed the crack as it grew, before a small groan came from behind the trees. John, already anticipating the worst, carefully peered around to see what it was. 

And then he saw quite possibly the worst thing he could encounter on this mission. Of all bloody places, it had to be this time of year, this time of day, and entirely behind Hollywood's studios. 

Stephen  _ sodding _ Strange. 

"You gotta be kidding me."

His whisper was just audible enough to startle Stephen, who looked away from the cracked circle in the ground to turn in his direction. His eyes widened, his body tensed, and it looked as if he's about to pass out. Or vomit. Or both. 

John, eventually bored by the silence, gestured his arms outward as if presenting himself. Yes, he was there, it was him, he wasn't an illusion. But apparently that still wasn't enough for the doctor, because he lifted a shaking finger at him, expression still ablaze with fright. 

"Okay, this might be some kind of new bizarre  _ 'price' _ ," he muttered, directing his sentence not to John but just aside from him, as if speaking to some kind of higher being. "But I think I'm hallucinating John Constantine in front of me." 

"Oh, you're not hallucinating mate," he said, stepping forward with his hands up. "I'm the real deal."

Stephen lowered his hand, though still in obvious shock, and continued to stare at him for what felt like an eternity. Usually John would've loved this attention, but right now it was getting kind of drawn out. He almost felt offended. 

"...Ffffucking hell," Stephen said at last, speaking once again to the sky. He dragged a hand down his face. "What are you doing in 1963?!"

"I could ask you the same thing, squire," John reflected, taking out a cigarette. Judging from Stephen's reaction, that wasn't a good enough answer. "Alright, I forgot to tell you-- I'm a time-traveller. My job's to save the world from wankers like  _ you _ interfering with the timeline."

He lit the cigarette and drew in one long, exaggerated breath. It gave him the tiniest bit of joy to see the doctor squirm. 

"Speaking of which," he pointed the cig at him, " _ why _ are you interfering with the timeline?"

"I--"

Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but a low grumbling interrupted his thought. John cocked his head to the side, taking sight of the sigil on the ground bursting with shining red energy. 

"Look... I don't have much time, so I'm just gonna explain," he motioned to the gleaming hole in the ground. "This is an open vat of pure, arcane energy drawn from Cyttorak of the Crimson Cosmos. In the present, it's luring thousands of demons into those Hollywood studios and sucking the executives dry."

Shoving his hand into his trenchcoat, John shrugged. "So what's new?"

"Cheap shot," Stephen narrowed his eyes at him. "Anyway, it's too big for me to close in the present even with a team, so I was able to find a spell to take me back in time to seal the vat before it became such a threat."

"Alright," he tilted his head to the pulsating lines etched in the ground. "So what's stopping you from closing it?" 

Stephen's lips remained closed for sometime, every once in a while opening up then abruptly closing as he attempted to give a response. But then finally, his shoulders slouched in resignation, and he grasped his head. 

"I-" he almost whispered, almost ashamed of what he was about to say. "I...I don't know how to do it." 

John's eyes widened. "You...don't?" 

He shook his head. "I don't know much about sealing wards, let alone one powerful enough to deal with something like...like this," he motioned again to the vat. "And if I don't take care of it, it's just going to destroy Hollywood." 

_ So what's there to lose? _ John nearly muttered, before noticing the state of the doctor. Anxiety was prodding his expression, the dark circles under his eyes making themselves known at last. He wasn't just stressed-- he was downright  _ afraid _ . 

He took another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke waft in the air. "So if we don't close this bloody garbage disposal, it's lights out?"

Stephen nodded in defeat, a glum look staining his face. John paused, eyeing the sigil, then Stephen again. With a huff, he flicked out his cigarette, gaining Stephen's attention. 

"Well, I'm not just gonna stand here and watch you tire yourself out," He knew he wasn't delightfully proficient in sealing magic, but maybe he could cobble something together. 

A scream sputtered from the ground. The two of them stumbled over the forming cracks, red light shimmering from beneath. Time was running out. 

John gazed at the sigil, a spell already brewing in the back of his mind. He turned to Stephen, eyes lit up with an idea. 

"I'm gonna need some basil and the guts of a bark beetle." 

* * *

Stephen returned a few minutes later, a time gap small enough for John to get his spell together. He wordlessly handed him the ingredients, and up close John could see both the pure exhaustion and hope in his eyes. 

This better bloody work. 

"Thanks squire," John took the beetle and basil with a pleased smile. He had disregarded his trenchcoat some time ago, rolling up his sleeves in preparation for the ward. "Do you wanna watch this?" 

Stephen shrugged, stepping back in hesitation. "I mean, what are you--"

Without giving him time to finish his inquiry, he shoved the bug's remains into his mouth. Normally, he'd be getting a disgusted reaction from Sara or a concerned question from Ray, but all Stephen did was look down at the ground in an awkward haze. 

"O-Oh," he said meekly. 

John grinned in pride. Getting the doctor to squirm  _ twice _ in one encounter was a pleasant achievement. Swallowing the guts, he gathered the basil into his hands, crushed it up, and whispered a spell into his palms. With a deep breath, he opened his arms up, scattering the enchanted basil across the cracked floor. 

The ground opened up, a howl erupting from its bellows. Dark red light spouted up from the ground, blinding the two of them. John raised a hand to shield his eyes, focusing on keeping his balance, and began chanting the sealing spell. 

_ "Cara diis caelo aequora purpuream singultibus, quæso ultionem tuam ex hoc mundo dimittere--"  _

Magic pulsed through his veins with a burning intensity. As best as he could try to control it, the power of the vat was gaining the upper hand. 

With a vicious shriek, he fell to his knees, gravity pulling down his body with a brutal tug. The pumping of his heartbeat was blaring through his head. His heart was weighing him down, it seemed, and he felt sweat cascading down his forehead. 

"It's a Cyttorak vat, you said?" he panted, struggling to lift his head. 

Stephen nodded, watching intently at the ritual with a tremor in his hands. John threw his head up and flashed a smile, the delirium in his eyes quickly concerning the doctor. 

"I have no sodding clue what that is." 

He never liked to admit that. Because now, Stephen was worried. He always worried, it appeared, and while John considered it admirable, he didn't want any anxiety right now. He'd only done this spell a few times, and never on something like-- like  _ this _ . 

Grass crumbling under his clenched fists, he grappled with the weight in his chest as he tried to focus on the magic coursing through his body. 

Stephen stepped forward with his arm out, his forehead creased. "Do you need my he--"

"You've been  _ saving my arse _ ever since we first met!" he snapped, throwing his arm into the air with impatient rage. "Most people who  _ dare _ to help me with things like this would be lucky to be alive 10 years later. Let me have this!" 

Stephen paused, then fell back, still noticeably concerned. John waved that concern off-- the sentimentality could wait. 

With a pained groan, he forced himself onto his weary feet and continued the incantation. It was going to take every bit of energy he had left, or maybe even more than that. But goddammit, he was going to finish this job if it was the last thing he did. 

_ "Matura vetustas mystica universi ex folle..." _

Blood dripped down his forehead, spilling onto his shirt. His vision was growing bleaker, his head pounding harder than his heartbeat at this point. 

The cracks opened wider and roared again, nearly throwing him off his balance. The ruby red magic seeped through, blinding John with its fierce intensity. 

But he couldn't lose focus. No, not now. Not when Stephen was depending on him. 

The thought of Stephen triggered an image-- him desperate and tired, concerned and nervous --and that somehow helped him focus the rest of his energy into the ward. 

_ "Accipiat te, ut tuam virtutem, ad diem pervenit auream--  _ **_ego loquor ad te vale!_ ** _ " _

And with one final roar that heralded the heavens, the crimson light faded away.

The forest grew quiet, with only the faint rustling of the trees being audible.

He did it.

John's breaths turned into heaves, the burning in his chest subsiding only slightly, and he fell back to his knees with an exhausted groan. He watched the cracks seal up, the lines etched into the Earth no longer visible, right before his eyes fell shut and he collapsed to the ground. 

He didn't want to open his eyes because right as he swooned, he could hear Stephen sprint through the grass. He didn't want to see his panicked face again. He was getting tired of it at this point. He just figured if he played unconscious, maybe Stephen would examine him from a distance and wait for him to get up by himself. 

Stephen, however, skipped that step and immediately kneeled down, placing John's head in his lap. John tensed, surprised by this sudden movement, and couldn't help but open his eyes. 

"Well, love,  _ that _ was a bit of an escalation." 

He didn't respond back, as he was already mumbling something under his breath. John assumed it was some sort of diagnosis, but after a verse or two from the doctor, the pain in his limbs began to numb. Stephen wasn't even focusing on his face, he was more concerned with his body. And yes, while John wasn't objecting to tall men being preoccupied with his body, it actually looked like Stephen genuinely  _ cared _ about him. Not as a patient, not as a bystander, but as a  _ friend _ . 

He didn't know what to make of the situation. So he watched in silence, allowing the pain to melt away. 

Eventually, the mumbling subsided, and Stephen (unconsciously, it seemed like) brushed a stray lock of hair out of John's sweaty forehead. It was a brief moment of intimacy, but one that he admittedly enjoyed. Ever so slightly. He smirked to himself, hoping Stephen wouldn't notice. 

"How are you feeling?" Stephen asked, out of breath despite the fact he wasn't doing much of the heavy lifting. 

John offered him a chuckle. "What's it look like, squire?" 

A twinge of a smile seemed to appear on Stephen's face, his hands stroking John's face. Wait no, not stroking, not stroking--  _ running _ . He was running his hand across his face, checking for any scars and whatnot. John was relieved (or at least, that's what he told himself) he wasn't stroking his face out of nowhere, because why would he want that? 

"If you see a feisty blonde and a handsome giant," he lifted his head. "that's my team."

Confusion flew across Stephen's face as he continued searching for any damage. "O-Okay, why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think I'm bloody dying..." he groaned, his body going limp out of pure exhaustion. Stephen launched for his head, trying his best to keep the warlock from falling asleep. 

"Diagnosis considered," Stephen muttered, holding onto his arm. He brushed his hand over his trenchcoat, lightly making sure there weren't any serious injuries. "Examination pending."

John couldn't tell if Stephen was being serious or not when he checked for a pulse, because it was ultimately charming how well he played the role of doctor. Or, well, he wasn't exactly  _ performing _ , obviously, but John could admire the dedication he had for his former craft. 

"Okay, here we go--" Stephen directed John's arm over his shoulders, shifting most of the warlock's weight onto himself as he made his way to his feet. John's head fell just below his neck, too tired to even complain. Hopefully the pain wasn't that serious, since he couldn't imagine how he'd convince him to get medical care. Medicine and bedrest could only do so much, but magical exhaustion was trickier to cure. 

Luckily, John began to pick up the slack as they got closer to the studios. His eyes were wide, if not fully open, and he was actually walking in tune with Stephen instead of letting himself be dragged down. But now, the pain wasn't the main thing on John's mind. It was  _ Stephen _ . 

No, not in  _ that _ way. Any moment now, Sara and Ray would find him in the arms of an obviously modern sorcerer with cultish-like robes. And he'd already gone through enough today with the Syphilis Vat or whatever, he didn't need his mind wiped either. 

"Strange," he croaked. "Just leave now. You don't have to find my teammates." 

"Don't worry," Stephen replied confidently. "I think I'll know how to deal with them." 

"Sure you do," John wanted to snark back, but didn't have the opportunity to because soon they were right behind the walls guarding the studios and he could hear footprints sprinting through the grass. 

"John!"

He got an eyeful of Sara before her hands were on his shoulders. Stephen released his grasp and he nearly fell into her arms, were it not for Ray keeping him upright. 

"We've told you again and again, stick with the group," Sara told him, examining the wounds on his head. "We saw this huge blast of light, and we...." She looked just past him, presumably at the clearly-not-from-around-here wizard that carried him down. "Who is this?" 

John held back a sigh. Maybe he could just lie and say he was a cultist. Yeah, that'd be believable enough. "Oh, that's just--" 

But when John turned his head, there wasn't a sorcerer draped in cobalt robes. Rather, there was a handsome man in a soft gray turtleneck, his figure hidden by a cream overcoat, eyes framed by his amber eyeglasses. He almost gawked at the stranger in front of him, but instead chose to smile. 

A concealment spell. Clever. 

"Hi," 'Stephen' raised his hand, feigning shyness. "My name is, uh...Vincent."

Ray perked up. "As in Price?"

"No!" Ste--uhm,  _ Vincent _ lowered his hand as he shook his head. "Uh, no-- as in... _ Sanderson _ . Vincent Sanderson," he stated with a confident grin. "I was just walking around the area, investigating for bugs and whatnot, and I found this mate on the ground," he motioned to John, "Is this your friend?" 

"Occasionally," Sara shrugged with a smirk. "We can take him from here."

John stepped back from the two of them, swiveling on his heels to get a better look at 'Vincent Sanderson' in the flesh. Honestly, he didn't look too shabby. Not completely shaggable, but perhaps a bit more bearable than the regular Stephen Strange. As he turned, however, he swayed back on his feet and saw Sara and Ray reach out for him, but he raised his hands in defense. 

"I'm alright, mate," he assured them as he settled back on solid ground. "Just a little dizzy, that's all, but I can walk myself." 

Sara rolled her eyes in a way that said "yeah, right" and placed a gentle hand onto his arm anyway. John had to keep everything inside of him from just falling into her right then and there. He was still bloody exhausted, but they didn't need to know  _ that _ , did they? 

"Are you ever going to involve us in your side-adventures?" Ray asked. 

John quirked an eyebrow at him. "Maybe one day, squire. Maybe."

He looked past the two of them and smiled genuinely ( _ sweetly _ , perhaps?) at the man in the turtleneck. He gave a knowing smile right back at him, void of any egotism or smugness. The moment they shared was brief, but refreshing. 

Sara turned around and tipped her head at him. 

"Thank you, Mr. Sanderson. And you didn't see anything out of the ordinary when you found him?" 

He shook his head. "Not at all." 

She exhaled, a hand to her chest. "That's a relief." 

John couldn't help but breathe out with her. 

"Well then, I'll just leave you three to it," he placed his hands in his coat pockets and turned swiftly on his heels. "Hope to see you again real soon!" 

John watched him leave, keeping his final words in mind. 

_ Don't hold your breath.  _

* * *

"I'm telling you, love, I'm fine." 

The first thing that happened when they boarded the Waverider was John collapsing against the wall. He forced himself back up (in true John Constantine fashion) but Sara and Ray were having none of it. At this point, there was no use in fighting it. He let him be dragged into the medbay and forced into a chair for an impromptu check up. 

Sara stood in front of him, her arms crossed with a stern expression. "You leave the team for a month, you return with a broken leg. You leave the team to fix a steaming pool of magic, you return nearly falling to your knees. The next time you sneak away from us, we'll be lucky not to find you in a ditch. Just let Gideon fix those bruises for you and you can be on your merry way, alright?" 

Rolling his eyes, John sighed in defeat and lowered his head into his hand. "Fine." 

He didn't look up to see Sara's grin. She just shook his shoulder affectionately, chuckled to herself when he lowered his head in annoyance, and proceeded to walk out of the medbay to give him some alone time. 

As he heard the doors close, John leaned his head back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The painkillers were doing their job, he just hoped they'd do it faster. He didn't know why he even bothered arguing with these guys sometimes. 

He was just glad Strange was smart enough to conceal himself when he found them. But hopefully that would be his last thought about him, as well as his last encounter with him. He was getting tired of seeing his face everywhere he went. 

He made a mental note to go straight back to his house, pop a drink, then read up on sealing wards after he was cleared. Just in case something like this ever happened again, of course. No other reason. 

He shoved his hands into his coat, bored out of his mind and fiddling for something to keep him busy. While searching for his cigs, his fingers brushed against a piece of paper that he knew hadn't been there earlier. He sifted it out and took a gander at the contents. 

And by god, it looked like his thoughts of Stephen weren't going away any time soon.

A phone number. Printed in a neat, tidy, mystic-looking font. Right below it, a small note. 

_ Call me if you ever need some help. -- Strange _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i really hope i didn't make Sara come across as OOC >-< i really like her and John's friendship in Legends and I wanted her to feel like a worried older sister type of character. as for Ray's presence, my HC is that he and Nora have settled down nicely and won't be full-time Legends anymore, but both of them still like hanging out with the team and Ray usually makes up some sort of excuse to join them on the smaller missions at least. mainly because I don't know how else to cope with Brandon and Courtney's departure D: (they were sooooo good!!) 
> 
> also btw, Stephen IS a semi-member of the Avengers in this story, mainly to parallel John's membership with the Legends, but he does most of his work solo since he's more comfortable like that. and while these past 3 stories have been John-centric, Stephen will get his own time in the spotlight very soon ;) 
> 
> thank you for reading! kudos, comments, and bookmarks are always appreciated! :D


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